"Henrik, I think it's time to give up on this dream of yours. Or, maybe on the way back from the honeymoon we try again."
"Give me one more second." He sounds like he is holding his breath as he slams me hard onto him.
"I'm coming. Oh fuck!"
He stills me on top of him and I am thankful it's over. I have no idea why people want to do this.
Henrik grabs some tissues as I clean myself upon standing. He wipes up and gets dressed. I reach for my panties and accidentally knock them off the counter and into the toilet, which then automatically flushes.
"Oh crap! Now what am I going to do?"
Henrik tries not to laugh as I smack him jokingly on the arm. He pulls me in for a hug and kisses the top of my head.
"Well, you could walk around without any undies on in that sexy skirt. I wouldn't mind that at all."
"You and most of the Italian men, when we get off the plane."
I smirk as my words sink in. He grimaces and then takes off his jeans and briefs. Handing me his briefs, he puts back on his pants.
"What do I do with these?"
"Wear them until we can get to the hotel room. We are husband and wife now, we share things."
I frown as I put them on. I wouldn't mind putting on his underwear if they weren't used. Also, they are big and baggy on me, poking out from under my skirt.
Once we make it back to our seat, I take the briefs off and lay them flat on the seat, as a towel. We eventually have the lunch as the stewardess gives us a questioning eye. I remove the metal lid from my dish and see a tiny piece of our wedding cake next to the chicken.
I look up at Henrik who takes the cake and brings the blue frosted confection to my lips. I take a bite and smile at him.
"I love you, Sweetcakes. Thank you for being my wife."
The End...but, read how they met with The Payne In The Blog!
The Payne In The Blog
Cover Picture: Voyagerix
Cover Design: Elizabeth Lynx
Chapter 1 - THE Interview ...
Have you ever thought, I can leave, no one will know? I can just go live in the woods, preferably warm like down south, and just spend my days living off the land.
This is what is running through my brain as I sit in an office building in downtown Chicago awaiting my fate. Everything is glass and wood and white and gray. It's a modern architect's wet dream and I'm wet too, but in all the wrong places.
Today I have an interview. Not just any interview for any job, but THE interview for THE job. I will be (fingers crossed!!!) Mr. Henrik Payne's assistant. He is VP of Sales and Marketing at Mimir, the third largest on-line retailer in the world and from what I hear a ball buster or vagina smasher, depending on what you have.
Preparation for this interview started eight years ago when I graduated college. Every job I have taken since I walked off that University stage with a diploma in my hand I sought for the sole purpose that it will impress a man like Mr. Payne. I imagine the interview will go something like this:
"So, Ms. Drake I see you worked as a Sales Manager at VonCroy Department Store and Assistant Secretary to the dean at University of Chicago. Impressive. I know the dean personally, what would he say about your work?"
I of course will wax poetic about how the dean loves me and I am like a daughter to him. Well, maybe not a daughter, but third niece twice removed. Subsequently, I will mention about how both jobs have given me the valuable experience to not only handle a multitude of personalities but also think on my feet. Employers love that!
"Ms. Drake!"
The feminine voice rips me from my fantasy and I turn my head to see a tall blonde about my age and built like a model. She gives me a sweet, if not exactly sympathetic, smile as she motions towards THE door.
"Ms. Drake, Mr. Payne will see you now."
I gather my bag and follow her as she leads me to THE door. One knock.
"Enter."
A man's deep voice echoes through the door. Here's my chance, fight or flight. Perhaps living off the land isn't that bad. Who needs modern medicine or dentistry or hamburgers? Oh God, I do. I need all those things. As the blonde -- who told me her name when I first arrived but due to massive nerves her name is nowhere to be found in my brain -- enters the room I too follow.
"Mr. Payne, this is Morgana Drake, she is interviewing to be your assistant."
I step out from behind her and see a man at a large modern wood desk with his head down tapping at his phone. His arm lifts and he points to a chair in front of his desk. Squaring my shoulders I stride in a confident manner to the appointed chair, lower myself and plaster the most syrupy sweet smile on my face. Here goes nothing!